


Of Strife and Sunflowers

by robotleech



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Angst, Blood Magic, Blood and Chaos Setting (Yogscast), Blood and Injury, M/M, Not RPF, Thaumcraft (Minecraft), descriptions of bodies, dying brain copes with dying, how on earth do i actually tag this, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:27:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25396885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robotleech/pseuds/robotleech
Summary: “Parvis,” Will repeated, a little more commanding this time.Parv did not move. Parv did not respond. Parv was dead. William Strife knew this.---Where Parvis dies after the explosion, leaving Strife to cope.
Relationships: Alex Parvis/William Strife
Kudos: 5





	Of Strife and Sunflowers

**Author's Note:**

> Howdy, this has been in my notes for over a month now so I thought it was finally time to post it.  
> All edits are done by me, so if you see an error please lemme know :]
> 
> Also TW: dead body descriptions, injuries, descriptions of veins. It’s not too graphic but read at your own risk y’know!!

He looks peaceful.

Standing over his corpse that had spiderwebs of purple veins, William Strife almost emotionlessly gazed at the leaning body of Alex Parvis. Although his head was dented slightly on one side, his collar bone was clearly broken, and his wounds running some darkish non-red fluid, the body was peaceful. Parvis was peaceful. 

In the explosion from mixing two incredibly temperamental magics, Parvis had crashed against the wall. It clearly killed him instantly.

Strife had hit the wall opposite to Parvis, but fortunately due to his farther distance from the blood altar, he survived. There was a ringing in his ears and he did not yet feel the affects of his injuries, but he survived. His clothes were tattered - not as badly as Parv’s - and his balance was off. He kept staring at Parv for some reason. He didn’t feel anything, but he kept looking.

“Parvis,” Strife said casually, still towering over the corpse. Spoke to him like he was still alive, almost. “Parvis,” Will repeated, a little more commanding this time. 

Parv did not move. Parv did not respond. Parv was dead. William Strife knew this.

“God, what did I tell you, huh?” Strife knelt down, placing a hand on the side of Parv’s bleeding head. Strife took note of the blood. It was weirdly colored, as were his protruding veins - flux must’ve seeped into his blood, infecting him. “Look at you now. Didn’t I tell you it wasn’t worth your time? Didn’t I warn you? I told you so, Parvis. Look where we’re at now. Look at you. Look at this goddamn castle of yours!” 

Alex Parvis was dead.

“It’s a wreck,” Strife continued, just sort of doing the only thing he knew how to do: express disappointment in Parvis. “Blood magic wasn’t worth it, I said. Do you remember it? I remember it clearly. I knew helping you was going to bite me in the ass - this is just karma. Or at least the bastardized version of it. What goes around comes around, as they say.” He spoke to no one - nothing. The tone of his voice vibrated in the air and no one responded back. 

“Are you even listening Parvis?”

“ _Parvis_.” Alex Parvis’ head snapped upward. Bright light shone through his eyes and blinded him; reflexively, he covered his eyes with his forearm. When his eyes adjusted, he found himself sitting in the middle of a sunflower field. Odd setting, considering he didn’t remember actually having one of those (anymore, at least). 

“Parvis!” the voice snapped again. “Are you even listening?”

“Will?” Parv responded, looking to his left to see the legs of his partner-in-crime. He looked up and certainly it was William Strife, but something was off. He was dressed much nicer. Black suit jacket over his usual black vest and red button down combo. Parv stood up, and his easy ability to tower over Strife made the taller man quickly see the lack of sunglasses perched on the blonde’s head. Parv didn’t like it.

“Clearly, I must repeat myself,” Strife rolled his eyes and groaned. “I swear, do you ever listen?”

“Why’re you dressed like that?” Parv ignored Strife, feeling a little uneasy about the formal appearance.

Will raised an eyebrow in confusion for a moment, then made an “ah” sound. “Oh, this? Is this not what I usually wear?” Clearly, he had forgotten what he was actually trying to get Parv’s attention for.

“Are you okay? Bump your head or something?” Parv narrowed his eyes. Then he did a quick take of the scenery. A seemingly endless sunflower field. “And where are we?”

Strife followed the glance over their surroundings and made another noise of acknowledgement. “It’s all just a replacement for the mess you made. Which was more or less your fault - though, now, I must admit that I had a hand in it.”

“Mess I made?” Parv questioned, head fuzzy from the events of before.

“I’m being vague. You’re dead.”

That hit Parv instantly. It was so blunt, so cold. It was a punch in the gut. He laughed. What else was he supposed to do but laugh? “No I’m not! I’m standing right here. You’re spouting nonsense.”

Strife grinned, which was a weird response in general. It was sort of melancholic, a kind of grin you’d give to someone you were just about to say goodbye to or say bad news about a family member to. “Am I? Parvis, I’m sorry. You’re dead. This is just your brain trying to grasp the concept of it right now. Being dead.”

Parv felt light. He felt like he could float away, or he could fall back and hit the ground and disintegrate instantly. His head was heavy at the same time, filling with thoughts. His eyes and throat stung, and when he spoke his voice cracked, “Dead?”

“Sure.”

“I can’t be.”

“You can deny it, if it makes you feel better,” Strife gave the taller man a pat on the back, “but it’s only the truth.”

The behaviorisms were odd. This wasn’t like Will - Will was “Bah, shut up,” was “Hey, my sunglasses are cool,” was selective about his suit choices, was deterred from physical touch. This was Will Strife, but not. He was off only very slightly, and it made Parv a little nervous.

“So, this is the afterlife? It’s nice, I guess,” Parv wasn’t sure what else to say. He felt the weight of his problems drift at the comfort of being released from the mortal plane, but what else are you supposed to say? He wasn’t happy he was dead. Wasn’t sad either. 

“No,” Strife shrugged, giving a sigh. “Just what you decided to drum up to cope with being dead. Things that were nice to think about in those final moments of your life, which were totally and completely our fault, because why on Earth did I actually let you do any of that?”

Ignoring the rest of Will’s lecture, Parv commented, “Sunflowers.”

“Yes. Your brain, as you die now, as you shut down and fade into sweet, dripping nothingness, wanted to think about sunflowers.”

“They’re nice. At least we go out together,” Parv felt something stuck in his throat.

“Oh! Oh, no,” Strife objected, reaching out for Parvis’ shoulder and looking directly into the dark haired’s eyes. “No, I’m not actually here. Or, I am. As much as the sunflowers are. I’m just a figment of your imagination.”

“What?” he was taken aback. He side-stepped away from Will’s gentle hand as if he felt betrayed. “You’re...”

“I’m not dead. I’m out there still. In your final moments - where you threw the raw awesome power of Thaumcraft into that godforsaken blood altar - you thought of William Strife and sunflowers.”

Alex Parvis was dead. He was dead and William Strife was not. Parv was okay with this. The shock of loneliness hit him at first, but as the realization settled, he was okay with this. He was glad Strife got to live and breathe all the same. Parv understood that the one who stood before him was simply an idealized Strife. Someone to hold his hand as he faded away. He was okay with that, really. It was nice while it lasted.

William Strife, the real Strife, the one who did not hold Parvis’ hand as he faded into nothingness, knelt beside the corpse of the guitarist. He did not cry. He did not feel capable of it. He felt the burn in his throat but no tears fell to his cheeks. He wanted to keep cursing out Parv and wanted to keep blaming him. Wanted to pout and whinge like he usually did.

This was not usually.

Strife pressed his back up against the wall and slid down. When he was sat beside Parvis, he gingerly placed his head on Parv’s shoulder. Watched the spiderwebs of purple intently. Watched Parv’s fingers intently. Oh, it was so quiet. Strife wanted to hear the giggle of Parvis’ laughter, the twists of his plots. “Hey, Parvis? Can I tell you something?”

No response. He was dead.

“Right, maybe another time.”

**Author's Note:**

> I think I wrote this immediately after finishing Blood and Chaos for the first time finally so you can imagine my sorrow.


End file.
